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David Mitchell

Oh my gosh Mark,

My mother's name was also Dorothy. And she was also a wonderful mom, with an amazing childhood. Her family moved about 6 times before she was out of grade school. That included two times in Columbus, two times in Minot N.D., a year in Chicago, and a few years in Augusta, Maine. Her father was first, a Public Health Director and later, a Physician. He died in while serving on the medical staff at a hospital in Minot during an epidemic when they ran out of the medicine that he needed.

Did my mother ever have some stories. And she was the type "B" - loving, calming force in the household compared to to my type "A" (always got to do more) father.

Thinking back, that generation lived through some amazing times.   

BTW, Mom and Dad met in a High School on Acadia near High Street . Anybody remember this place?

P.s. And my mother-in-law's name was Dorith.

James Hamilton, M. D.

Mark,

That was a great, touching and personalized tribute to your mother. 

Our generation of mothers certainly did well and without a lot of the modern conveniences available today. But then, each generation faces different challenges..

So here is to all mothers a Happy (belated) Mothers' Day!

Jim

Michael McLeod

We could make a tradition of posting stories about our mothers when mothers day comes along.

Actually it's not too late if anyone wants to briefly share.

I've probably mentioned that my mother, whose father was a doctor with an office adjacent to his home on main street east of downtown, was an outgoing, well-educated woman who maintained her figure and her devotion to her faith and my father and her children her whole life long, introduced me to the joy of a home-made rhubard pie, spent her summers swimming laps at olympic swimming pool in clintonville, which was a ten minute walk from our house, and encouraged us to read for pleasure and appreciate the arts. I have a sister who plays the piano, another one who was a straight a student, another who's an artistic soul, while I was fairly errant young man who eventually found himself by writing.

She was a class act but absolutely humble about it. I think I once told her anything good in me came from her. Didn't mean it as a dis to my dad but it just came out that way.

PS I just posted another link relating to the issue we touched on briefly here about journalistic objectivity/subjectivity on the user forum. 

And thanks to those who contacted me about the much more soothing story about the preservation of louis comfort tiffany's gorgeous stained glass creations. 

Mary Margaret Clark (Schultheis)

This article may be of some interest to those who grew up in Clintonville and remember this beautiful home.

https://www.clintonvillespotlight.com/articles/recent-house-sale-cracks-million-dollar-barrier/?fbclid=IwAR0pJSW00cmLJqWxYvShsfNiSrLXtgIlhazktynEL23B0ptZsfg0vZsaFzI

Michael McLeod

Thanks MM.

Just to think of how many times I walked by that house as a kid living on east north broadway and then drove by as a young man thinking rather casually: that's a cool old house. I think we knew even as children that those were places to be revered. That there was a difference to them, a solidity and grace all their own.  I grew up loving antiques, savoring the old places, becoming more and more sentimental about them as I aged. Still, it's mind-boggling. It has sort of crept up on me over the years just how rare those things have become. Certainly never imagined how precious and at this point god-awful expensive a place like that would someday be. How many homes that are being built today will stand up to the test of time as those stalwart and gracious old homes have done? 

David Mitchell

MM,

I kind of recall that house. And it sparks a memory of many friends.

Even though I did not grow up on that street, I was familiar with several others on the block near Indianola. Our next door neighbors and dear friends, Jack and Betty Russeau (spelling?) kept having baby girls and had to buy a bigger house - that wonderful house a few doors down from IC school. How I loved visiting that house. After Susie refused to marry me at age 5, we dated some in high school. They eventually had one boy (after 6 girls) and I will always remember the warm feeling of listening to Betty play piano (by ear) in their lovely step-down living room.

Dad was also a long time friend of John Cantlon so I knew Mark a little before we all arrived at Watterson. I seem to recall visiting their house a few times too. And Mr. Cantlon explained to us that it had a hidden basement tunnel to another house acrross the street and down the block a few doors. This was part of the "Underground Railroad" back in the day. 

And our family were long connected to several of the Hughes families. Althought I was never inside that house, I was quite familiar with that "Uncle" Hank Hughes and his wife and fifteen kids - including our classmates Janet and Joan and the rest, before they were pulled out and sent to Whestone.

My dad's family moved to Acton Road when he was in high school, so he became a regular at Immaculate Conception church, and alwyas loved the place. We would occasionally go to Mass there just because Dad missed the beautiful old church. And his kid sister was married there.

I also had a grandmother on Oakland Park near High Street, and our good friends, the Bergmans were at the other end of that street. 

That whole neighborhood was part of my DNA growing up.

Michael McLeod

I can't tell you, here at the end of the term, how soul-crushing it is to bust your ass trying to make students appreciate the process of writing well - that it's good for the soul to sweat it out putting things just the right way, that a well-shaped sentence has a beauty to it, and if you make one you should take pride in it.

And then you get the term papers and a percentage of the class, you know damn well, turned in papers written by those artificial intelligence programs.

I wish I could describe the feeling that gives me in the pit of my stomach.

It's like being betrayed by a friend you confided in, a friend you opened yourself up to and thought you could trust.  

The only thing that pulls me out of it is hearing from students who genuinely appreciated the course.

When I get the chance, over the summer, I'll be reading up on the subject to see how other teachers have contended with it. 

But hey, thanks for listening. Just writing that down gave me the idea that I'll start my class next fall with words to that effect. See if I can at least make them feel guilty about it.

Janie Albright (Blank)

MM, love the article you posted on the Million dollar $$ plus home on E N Broadway. I've always thought that street was beautiful. 

Joseph Gentilini

Michael, I appreciate your frustration at trying to educate students who aren't interested in what you have to teach.  When I was working on my PhD at Ohio University in Athens, Ohio I taught an interpersonal communication course as a teaching assistant.  These students were either juniors or seniors and so had had two or three years of passing courses.  Part of the requirements in my classes were to turn in a reaction or intergration paper every week on anything I taught or was talked about in our discussions, along with a term paper.  I was amazed at the papers I received.  Some had no punctuation, no capitalizations, no correct sentence structure, misspellings, etc.  I told them upfront that if I received a paper with poor spelling, The 'integration' papers were not graded, but it would reflect in the grades if they were not turned in.  I was still shocked, however.  If they turned a term paper in with poor spelling, etc., it would reflect on their grades.  They objected saying that I was not teaching an English grammar course.  I told them that they were correct that I was not teaching a grammar course, but added that they were upperclass students with access to dictionaries and spell checkers and therefore could do better.  I also told them that they were going to be graduating and entering the business world in some way - they should know better!  How in the hell did they ever get to my class and not have some teacher before me address this issue?!  Joe

Janie Albright (Blank)

Mark, I remember your mother. Your tribute is beautiful. Thinking how long- suffering they were with so many children, and not the conveniences of today, although way more than their own mothers I suppose. We were lucky and blessed to have them! 
 

Joseph Gentilini

Well, it looks as if I made mistakes in my previous response - mea culpa!  I think you at least know what I was trying to say.  I should have proof-read it before I hit submit! 

Michael McLeod

Joe: you can edit your message. There should be an "edit" on the banner across the top. Click on it. Then fix and resubmit. 

Anyway you should have told your students: God is in the details.

Because by golly She is.

On the other hand you could just have a.i. make your posts.

Michael McLeod

Hey dave my dad went to north high too.

I remember him singing a song: "north high will shine tonight, north high will shine." 

Joseph Gentilini

Thanks Mike - I only see a spell checker, but maybe that would have caught it for me or alerted me to the issue.  Oh well, it is what it is.  Thanks for the tip.  joe

James Hamilton, M. D.

Mike,

Obviously, your students were not taught by nuns in grade school. 

Jim

David Mitchell

Joe and Mike,

This stuff takes me back to my story earlier about Keith Groff and his quote,     "I was taught by Dominican nuns." 

I am also reminded of a similar story from a friend who taught freshman engineering studetns at Ohio State. He told me that most of the entering freshmen were so poorly prepared in Math that he had to go back and spend about the first 6 weeks reviewing high school algebra. I dare say Sister Norbertine would not have left us wanting in that subject either. 

David Mitchell

Life's Disappointments

Even the average sports fan will be aware that we are entering the season for NFL "roookie training camp". Right now, across the country, NFL teams are holding early drills to get a first look at their new class of rookies. Out of these early sessions, there will be some great players that emerge. And there will also be some disappointments - guys who's hopes for an NFL carreer end here.

I was just recalling one such guy - one of my favorites from Ohio State back in our high school days. He became the final cut at the Cleveland Browns training camp in (I think?)1962. He was trying out as a wide reciever, and so was his training camp roommate - both rookies.

But the Browns kept his roommate because he was not only a fine Wide Receiver, but also great punter. His name was Garry Collins (from Maryland if memory serves) and he went on to become a geat Wide Reciver AND a great Punter.

So the dream of becoming a Cleveland Brown ended for this Buckeye.

Too bad.

I mean, too bad for the Browns.

Hellooo Boston Celtics!!!

Joseph Gentilini

David, Sister Norbertine (changed her name to Gertrude) was the best math teacheI I ever had and math was not my best subject or interest. Thanks for bringing her name up - good memories.  i remember how awful JFK's death hit her.

Michael McLeod

(raises hand) saint norbert was a german nobleman who was struck by a bolt of lightening. He survived intact. I doubt we could say the same for his shorts. He founded the norbertine order. It would have been cool if he had them all have little lightening bolt insignias as their trademark. better still, tatoos.

Donna Kelley (Velazquez)

MM, thanks for posting the photo of the Clintonville house (a street over from ours on Clinton Heights Av).  It has brought back memories to various Kelley siblings.  I must admit that they were a little surprised to think that I might be suscribed to the Clintonville Spotlight!  

 My brother Steve (Class of ´61) remembers hanging out with Tim Pond there where they would actually shoot hoops in the turret (the hoop was attached to the wall). My sister Linda remembers frequent visits many years later with her friend Molly Echenrode.

Mark, thanks for sharing your song dedicated to your mother.  I think we can all identify with a lot of the sentiments you expressed.

Mike, sorry that you were "hit" with some of the AI consequences so early on.  It looks like we are just getting started.

Janie Albright (Blank)

Joe, following up on Mike's advice on editing a post you've already submitted, if you don't see the edit or delete choices you aren't logged on. Once you are logged on you can go to your post and click on edit button. If you are just responding to the email notification that there are new posts you can read them but you might not be logged on and you won't see those choices. 
 

David Mitchell

Joe,

I was not aware that Sister Norbertine had changed her name. What a fun memory she was!

I must admit, I think she was an outstanding Algebra teacher, but oh, what a funny character! Her animated personality, that serious lisp, and her expressions, were a source of much commentary back in the day. One of my favorites was when she caught someone not paying attention she would roll her head over the sky and say, "Come day, go day, God send Sunday".

I was somehow placed in the faster math classes  with the likes of the Hodges, Yarborough, Roach crowd (God only knows why). Charlie Kaps was also in those classes with us and he and I were contsantly interrupting her with questions - I mean maybe six or eight times a day. She would stop, roll her eyes in dusgust, and call on us. One time when she had just about had her fill of my questions she said, "Michael" (she always called me Michael) "you are sccchhhlow to grassssspp. But once you have it, you never forget it."  

And who could forget her "rosary repair business". She kept that tiny pair of needle nosed pliers, and her supply of links and beads on her waist belt - ready for service at all times.

Speaking of her name, I just now put two and two together - I think Steve Hodges religious order is the Norbertine Fathers

Joseph Gentilini

David, I am not sure when she actually changed her name - sometime after Vatican II.  I forgot the lisp and the clicking dentures which obviously did not fit  well.  She had a picture of JFK right behind her desk next to the windows and we very upset when he died.  I was also placed with the smart classmates (Hodges, Reid, etc.), but I learned my Algebra 1.  Unfortunately, I was then placed with the smart ones again for Geometry which i found difficult.  I really was over my head in Algebra 2 and Trig with Sister Mary Malcom (who changed her name later to Loreen (Sp?) and I scraped by only.  She never smiled.  When it came to Calculus and Physics in my senior year, I decided not to take those courses.  As I remember I only got Cs with Algebra 2 and Trig so why would I not get Cs or even Ds in those senior courses.  I went to Sr. Gertrude's funeral which was an eye-opener.  Gertrude had thought of suicide at one point and didn't think she would go to heaven.  Thank God, the sister in charge when Gertrude was in Mohan Hall (the sisters nursing  home), helped her to see that she would go to heaven.  joe

Joseph Gentilini

I also remember the story (although I was not in the class when it happened) that her dentures fell out into her hands.  That would have been funny and sad at the same time.  Does anyone remember Sister ? in Homeroom11?  I can't remember her name, but she was very old.  I heard that she watered her plastic flowers on the window ledge every morning.  One day, someone tied very thin string to the flowers and as she watered them, the 'grew.'  Wonder if that story is true.  Also Sister Hillary who taught math, I think) that freshman year.  Someone put a dead fish in her drawer which she later found.  Is that story true also? 

Bill Reid

Ok, it's time for me to go to public confession, after all these years. I was the one Joe Gentilini refers to in his post. I sat near the window in Sister Francesca's homeroom #111. We all knew she watered her plastic flowers, which sat in a flowerpot on the window ledge. So one day I tied a thread to the plastic flowers, looped the thread over the handle that opened the windows (no air conditioning back then, I guess) and held the thread under my seat. When Sister Francesca came over to water her flowers, I tugged on the string and the flowers popped up an inch or so. She stopped, had a look of wonder on her face, and then watered them again. I again pulled on the thread and the flowers "grew" another inch. She stopped again with a quizzical look on her face, and then said, "Well, it's about time they grew!". Needless to say, muffled laughter reigned in the room. I've not admitted to doing this for many years but Joe's posting prompts me to come clean about my misbehavior. Poor Sister Francesca! She gave us lots to laugh about; what unruly teenagers we were back then! or, maybe, just me!!!